Gloucester Street Spring Break Journals (Day One)

For the past few years I've had, in effect, "spring break" periods of about a week or so over which I have consistently had experiences that I will probably recall for years to come. Despite being out of school this year, I have a reading week, of sorts, because the House of Commons is taking the week off debating. What has been largely characteristic about these weeks is that I have been pretty well left to my own devices. In 2006, I stayed at Kat's place for a week in March while she took a trip to Spain. In 2007, Andrea and Holly were both out of town, so I had an apartment to myself. Last year was an exception to the general rule as I spent a week NOT being alone and visited Andrea in her hometown for the first time. This year, I'm flying solo again. Andrea left for California for a week. As I'm writing these words, her plane is taking off from the Ottawa airport.

I haven't been able to sleep since she left. I went online and had a look at old journal entries covering weeks like this. 2006 was most notable, because I made a concerted effort to update everyday. The entries turned into brief treatises on what I thought about love. I quite admire some of the observations I made and find others unnecessarily heavy-handed and overly dramatic. Ultimately, though, I find myself glad that they were made. And I'd like to make more.

Maybe I will this week. I would certainly like to get a fair bit of writing done, just a housecleaning of the soul. I find myself sitting with another cat, in another girl's apartment, three years after experiencing what it was like to live completely alone for the first time. Lately I've been finding myself increasingly reliant on Andrea's love to feel happy. She went out of town last weekend and I felt almost powerless in her absence. I couldn't leave the house last Saturday without her. I felt anxious and strange, in a way I rarely do any longer. I miss Andrea. She's the most important thing in the world to me. But I want to feel good about being alone, and I think the only way that's going to happen this week is if I take the opportunity to write.

I'd like to take hold of life this week. Lately, being back at work, I've felt like I've only been fulfilling a function. I've been feeling a bit down because I spend so much time working and I'm very rarely told that I'm doing a good job. I seem to have a complex about such things. If I'm not told that I'm doing well, I assume I'm doing poorly. I think that's part of the reason why school appealed to me so much. I could work and work and finally receive guaranteed feedback about my performance in the form of a grade. I need that bottom line or my mind starts hurling all sorts of negativity at me. And a little bit of that is okay, because I like a challenge, and I like to feel that I can improve and think around barriers and change. But I don't want to be a robot. I want to feel like what I do matters, of course.

The first step is to maybe nail down what matters, to figure out what's important to me and put it into words. That way I can start making better decisions and prioritizing and feeling better about how I'm alive. Last night I was brushing my teeth and I was suddenly and momentarily overwhelmed by how much of a gift life is. That feeling still hits me in waves, three years later, in a girl's apartment with a cat searching for affection. This week, I want to show my appreciation.